


the taste of love is sweet (and it burns, burns, burns).

by rockygetsrolling



Series: the bizarre and beautiful life of james w. gordon [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Gotham Central
Genre: Dating, F/M, First Date, I Will Go Down With This Ship, In Which The Author Makes Fun Of Her State Shamelessly, Romance, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 02:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockygetsrolling/pseuds/rockygetsrolling
Summary: James Bond:Being scared of going on a date should be reserved for high school students only, I've decided.Brucie Bear:I mean, you're right.Brucie Bear:But why are you sending me this at four in the morning.James Bond:Because I'm having my seventh consecutive midlife crisis this month because of this.Brucie Bear:Understandable.OR: Jim and Sarah go on their first (official!) date.





	1. oh, and the fire went wild.

“I’m sorry, you’re going _where?_?” Stephanie asks from where she’s spread out on Jim’s bed. 

“I’ve already said it about seventy times,” Jim says as he adjusts his collar in the mirror. “We’re going out of the city, down to the shore. There’s a strip mall by the beach Sarah wants to go to.”

“Pier Village?” Babs asks without looking up from painting Cass’ nails. 

“Yeah, that’s what it’s called.”

Harper, who’s in the middle of braiding Stephanie’s hair, snorts. “Dude, that shit is in Long Branch. You don’t wanna go there. That’s where all the psychopaths live.”

“Maybe so, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Sarah does have good taste,” Babs says. “I respect her choice. It’s a good one.”

“The beaches there are really nice in the summer,” Stephanie adds. “I went there once for a school trip. There were dolphins. Some girl chipped her tooth on a rock. They have an awesome ice cream store there. It was rad.”

“Sounds festive,” Harper says.

“Right?”

Jim smooths his jacket out and walks out of the bathroom, into his bedroom, where the girls are waiting patiently. “Well?”

“Oh my God,” Harper says emphatically. “You actually know how to dress like a normal human being.”

“Told you he wasn’t a robot that runs on coffee,” Stephanie quips. 

“You’re hilarious,” Jim deadpans. “Seriously, I’m asking for advice. Is this good?”

Babs hums slowly as she studies his outfit—dark blue jeans, a black blazer, a cream turtleneck, and black wingtips. “Overall, very nice. Chic, classy, not too flashy.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Plus it goes with Sarah’s outfit.”

“Sarah’s outfit?” Cass asks.

“Yeah, Sarah’s outfit?” Harper repeats.

Babs shrugs. “My fashion sense is reliable and Sarah trusts me on that.”

“You can’t just tell me you know what her outfit looks like and not show me,” Jim says. He’s been having anxiety about this date all week—there’s very little his meds can do for that, really—and while he loves and appreciates the girls coming to help him, he still can’t help the butterflies springing to life in his stomach. 

He feels like a teenager again, and not necessarily in a good way. 

“I can and I have to. I promised her I wouldn’t show you.”

Jim sighs. “That’s fair.”

“Dude, you gotta go,” Harper pipes up. “You gotta pick her up by, like, six, don’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“It five thirty now,” Cass says. 

Jim picks up his phone and slides it into his pocket, then his wallet. Hopefully, it’s all he’ll need tonight. 

On a second whim, he grabs his badge.

“Seriously?” Stephanie looks unimpressed.

“Listen, you never know. Anything could happen.”

“Leave him alone, he’s valid,” Babs says, giving Stephanie a mock glare. 

“Mayhaps. Maaaayyyyyhaaaaappss.”

Cass gets out of her seat and hugs Jim tightly, being careful to splay her nails out so the polish doesn’t rub off on his clothes. “Have good time.”

Jim gives her a squeeze. “Thanks, kiddo. You too.” He looks around at the other girls in the room. “You know the rules. You can stay as long as you want—”

“Just don’t burn the house down,” all four of them finish together.

“Dad, relax. I got it,” Barbara says.

“Whatever you say. Good night, ladies.” He shoots them a goofy wink before slipping out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house.

He takes a deep breath of the chilly November air. 

“You can do this, Gordon. You can do this.”

As he climbs into his car and starts the engine, he hopes to God that he’s right.

=

“Damn.”

Sarah laughs. “What?”

“Just. _Damn_.”

“There’s no way that you’re starstruck already. There’s no way you’re _starstruck_ at all. This is hardly red carpet couture.”

“And yet you’re stunning nevertheless.”

Her outfit is simple, yet flattering: a pair of pale-washed skinny jeans, a grey long-sleeved T-shirt, a black leather jacket, and combat boots. It’s casual and sweet, and the gold jewelry she’s wearing adds a form of brightness to the look. 

Sarah shakes her head, grinning like a loon. “You’re not so bad yourself, hot stuff.”

“I feel a tad overdressed.”

“The blazer _is_ a little bit overboard, but it looks very nice.”

Jim laughs nervously, and he’s glad to see some tension in Sarah’s shoulders, too. At least he’s not alone in his anxiety.

“I’m pretty sure this is the part where I escort you to the car?”

“I think it might be.”

Jim holds out his arm like a Victorian gentleman. “Milady.”

Sarah laughs again—she never looks more beautiful than when she laughs—slides her arm through his, and they walk from Sarah’s front door to the street where Jim’s car is parked. 

“You’re on DJ duty,” Jim says as they climb in. “God knows I have shit music taste, and I have to navigate to this place either way.”

Sarah takes his phone after he hooks it up to the AUX and begins to scroll through his music library. “Oh my God, this is all jazz music.”

“That’s all I listen to.”

“What’s Sleeping At Last?”

“They aren’t jazz, they’re orchestral. I feel like you might like them?”

“Buddy, all I listen to is nineties pop and indie bullshit. Gimme a second—” She cuts herself off and looks up at him, expression unreadable. “Why on God’s green earth do you have so many Johnny Cash songs.”

“Don’t mock me, Johnny Cash is fantastic.”

“All of his songs are just the same tune recycled with different words.”

“It _works_.”

“It definitely doesn’t.”

“Say what you will, ‘Folsom Prison Blues’ is an excellent song.”

Sarah shakes her head. “The only half-decent Johnny Cash song is ‘Ring of Fire.’ To quote the kids these days, it’s a pure song.”

Jim replies with an exaggerated wince. “I dunno what hurt more, your blatant usage of the language of Generation Z, or the fact that you think ‘Ring of Fire’ is a good song.”

Sarah stares at him with an expert poker face, then decisively taps a button on the screen. The familiar mariachi trumpets sail from the speakers of Jim’s car, and he resists urge to face-palm. 

“Oh my _God_.”

Sarah laughs, almost maniacally, and she happily begins to sing along, tapping her hand on the door to keep time. “_Love is a burning thing, and it makes a fiery ring…_”

If it had been anyone else, Jim would’ve held out his hand and asked for her mercy. But she looks so happy, so relaxed and genuine, that Jim decides against it and instead lets her belt out every word, buried deep in blaring brass and sweet harmonies. 

“Would you be mad if I played it again?”

Jim laughs. “Two minutes ago you were saying that all Johnny Cash songs are the same and here you are, asking to play it again?”

“I said they all sound the same, that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” 

Jim can feel himself smiling. “Go ahead.”

She plays it again, and this time he tries to hear it the way she clearly does, and he realizes that she’s right; it’s as pure as a love song can get. When he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, she looks as if her own face is outlined by a ring of fire, glowing at the edges, a spark in her black-hole eyes. She looks so at peace, it makes Jim’s chest ache. 

Cautiously, Jim edges his hand down from the steering wheel and slides it into Sarah’s. She wraps her fingers around his grasp, and Jim feels the anxiety that’s gripped him for days loosen and fall away, landing somewhere among the pennies and dimes hidden among the carpets. 

“I think that was the exit,” Sarah says suddenly.

“Shit.”

“You don’t use navigation apps?”

“I never really see a need for it.” He shifts over to the right lane. “I’ll take the next exit, no worries. I used to come down here to oversee crime scenes of Gotham citizens who floated too far.”

“Jesus.”

“It sounds way worse than it was. We got one about twice a year, tops, and that was when the Falcone and Maroni families were still in power.”

“The old-fashioned ‘drown-n-ditch’, huh?”

“They say to go with what works. I dunno how _well_ it works, but then again, you never know.”

She sniffs and gazes out the window as they drive through the exit, lapsing from bare trees to the quiet seaside town. “_This_ is Long Branch?”

“Yep.”

“Simone told me it was a crime-infested cesspool. This looks like tourist heaven.”

“Don’t be fooled. Long Branch is iffy at best.”

“Are we talking Diamond District iffy or Narrows iffy?”

“Safely, I’d say it’s Otisburg iffy.”

“That’s fairly iffy.”

“Yep.” He bears the car on a turn, streaking up Ocean Avenue. “This place has barely changed since 2007.”

“Twelve years of stagnacism.”

“That’s ocean towns for you.” He looks up ahead and feels himself crumple. “Oh no.”

“What? What is it?”

“Pier Village is blocked off.” 

Sarah leans forward and peers through the windshield. “Are you serious.”

The roads leading into and out of the small beachside plaza were both blocked off with the usual white pipes and orange signs reading **CLOSED TO THRU TRAFFIC** and **CLOSED DUE TO ELECTRICAL ISSUES**. 

“Jesus Christ.” Jim sighs and shakes his head as he drives past. “What utter bullshit.”

“Maybe we can try something else? There’s a place in Sea Bright that my brother told me about.”

“We can give it a shot, definitely.” He sighs. “I’m really sorry, Sarah, I thought this would work out—”

“Don’t apologize to me for giving it your best shot. You didn’t know. It’s okay.” She squeezes his hand, then brings his knuckles up to her lips and kisses them. “Anything I do with you will work out.”

Jim can’t help the blush that suddenly spans his face. “You sure about that?”

Sarah’s smile peers over his scarred skin. “I’ve been friends with you long enough to have watched you weather through government-mandated No Man’s Lands, the reign of terror a la Mr. Nygma, and citywide invasions of owl-looking assassins, and somehow you still haven’t lost your cool. I think we can handle a botched date.”

Jim smiles and pulls his hand—and Sarah’s—back toward him, and he kisses the back of her hand. “What’s this place called, _dah-ling_?”

Now it’s Sarah’s turn to blush. “Tommy’s. Just keep going up Ocean Avenue. It’ll be just past Sea Bright’s main plaza.”

“Whatever you say, _min grainn_.”

“You ever gonna tell me what that means?”

Jim sends her a playful wink. 

“So no?”

“You’ll figure it out.

=

Dinner at Tommy’s seems to have been the best solution possible. The restaurant is right between the Navesink River and the ocean, and both bodies sent warm drafts up into the air around the place. Jim decides immediately that he likes if, from the decor to the service, and the food only adds to his approval. He and Sarah grab a table overlooking the river, and they talk for what feels like hours.

When they do leave, Jim drops his customary generous tip, and Sarah rewards him with a peck on the lips as they walk back out into the sharp November air. 

“I’m really not ready to go home just yet,” Sarah says as the climb into the car.

“Then we won’t.” Jim drives out of the parking lot and turns left onto Ocean Avenue, heading north yet again. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

“Oh, no.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jim pulls to a stop in a parking lot overlooking the end of the Sandy Hook peninsula, snaps out of the front seat, and pulls a blanket out of the trunk. 

“What are you doing?” Sarah asks, her face curled into a fond smile.

“You ever stargazed on a winter night?”

“Not consciously.”

Jim spreads the blanket out on top of his car’s roof, then climbs up from his hood to the roof. “You want to start now?”

He holds out his hands to her, and then happily pulls her up to lie down beside him. 

“You stargaze?”

“I read my fair share of star maps growing up.” He points upward toward the Big Dipper. “That’s only a small part of a full constellation, for starters. The full thing is called Ursa Major. The legend goes that the bear was originally a nymph and one of Zeus’ lovers, but when she had his child Zeus turned them both into bears and pulled them up to the sky to protect them from Hera’s wrath. That’s why their tails are so long.”

“Holy shit, you know your stuff.”

Jim casts her a wry smile. “Like I said, I read way too many star maps.”

“And mythology books,” she giggles. 

They lie there for at least an hour, curled together against the vicious cold of the night, and Jim does his best to make her laugh with his stories. He seems to succeed, because Sarah’s face is red with something that’s not just the cold, and when he’s done with his tale of Argo, he pulls her smiling mouth close and kisses it as softly as he can.

Her smile doesn’t vanish. If anything, it intensifies. 

When they pull apart, they’re both smiling. 

“_If all the stars were to fall_,” Jim murmurs, “_it would be yours that I want to land at my side_.”

“And who said that? Brontë? Poe?”

“Nope.” Jim smiles. “Just me.”

Sarah softens, and when she kisses him this time, he feels light-headed. Maybe her black-hole eyes are sucking him in too far after all. 

“How’d we do, Miss Essen?”

“Not bad at all, for a first date.” She kisses him one more time, on the top of his nose. “I think my favorite part was when I laughed with you.”

“You might have to be more specific.”

She doesn’t elaborate, just smiles wider, and honestly, that’s answer enough.

=

She falls asleep on the ride home, and Jim plays his music softly until they arrive in Gotham, whereupon he unceremoniously awakens her with the techno blast of Whitney Houston’s dance anthem. Her reaction snaps from surprise to glee when she realizes who’s singing, and the two of them belt out every word as Jim takes them through Gotham’s winding streets.

When they got to her place, he turns the music down and kisses her one last time. She’s all too happy to reply in kind. 

“Thanks for a great night,” she says.

“Thank _you_ for making it great.”

She laughs, scoops up her purse, and slips out of the car. As she walks away, she smacks the car’s hood twice, and then laughs when Jim makes a face at her through the glass of the windshield. He watches her until she’s safe inside before pulling away, his whole body thrumming with the energy of being in love and alive. 

“I love her,” he says out loud in the relative silence of his car.

He says it again when he walks inside, standing in his foyer, still foggy and maybe a bit lovesick.

“I love her.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and he smiles. He decides that he likes the way they sound.


	2. bonus round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ao3 html formatting is HELL

“We been knew, bunches.”

Jim jumps and whirls around, only to be making eye contact with a decked-out Bluebird, her shock of wild hair a stark contrast to the dark of his home. 

“Je_sus_ H.”

“No need to call me that.”

“Harper, what are you doing here?”

“The girls and I are just about to start patrol, actually.”

“Someone start playing that song from _Hercules_,” Stephanie says from the top of the stairs.

“No, but that doesn’t work,” Harper shoots back, “because he _is_ in love, and he’s saying it out loud. Thematically, it loses its meaning.”

“Shit, you right.” Stephanie slides down the bannister. “Babs, what’s a good Disney song about being in love?”

“Oh my God,” Jim says, pulling a hand over his face.

Babs rolls out of the kitchen, Cass just behind her. Cass is also in uniform, like Stephanie and Harper, sans her mask and gauntlets. Babs looks at once amuses and exhausted by the other two’s shenanigans.

“I dunno if this counts, but ‘A Lovely Night’ from the _Cinderella_ musical is a good one.”

“It is!” Stephanie shouts, shaking Harper’s arm. “Oh my God, I’m adding that to the JimSarah playlist.”

“I’m sorry, the _what?_”

Babs and Cass burst out laughing while Harper facepalms. Steph looks alarmed and mildly frustrated, like she’s just revealed a terrible secret. Maybe she has.

“I’m making you guys a playlist.” She looks miffed about having said it aloud. 

Jim feels a warm sensation travel across his chest. “Really?”

“Well, duh. It’s only the ship we’ve all been sailing since, like, 2012. You guys are totally meant for each other.”

Jim blinks. “Is this a common feeling?”

“Yep,” Babs says.

“Yessir,” Harper contributes.

“Yes,” Cass concedes. 

“It’s about damn time, if you ask me,” Babs cracks, shooting her father a wry smile.

“Don’t you ladies have some crime to fight?”

Harper claps three times. “We sure fuckin’ do. Let’s go, lesbians. We got shit to kick.”

“Not literally, I would hope,” Babs snarks as the other three make a dash out the back door. Cass suddenly backtracks and throws her arms around Jim, giving him a tight squeeze and a broad grin before vanishing behind her mask and out the door.

“Stay safe!” Jim yells after them. 

“Yes, Mom,” Harper yells over her shoulder as they fade into the night.

Babs grins at her father. “_A lovely night, a looovely night_—”

“Okay, you know what, Miss Thing—”

“_A finer night, you know you’ll never see_,” Babs sings, barely containing her laughter as Jim throws his arms up in a silent beg for mercy. 

“You’re terrible, you know that.”

“You love me.”

Jim sighs. “I do.”

“More than Sarah?”

“Oh my _God_.”

Barbara laughs.


End file.
